Where he's loved
by FluffDucklings
Summary: Children don't know who to turn to or what to do in cases of domestic violence. But, given a little hope, they are able to find peace in the most unexpected of places and with the most unexpected people. Based on Concrete Angel by Martina McBride.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I cried while writing this and it's not even that sad. No joke. Tears, runny nose, the whole nine yards.  
>I got the inspiration from Concrete Angel by Martina McBride. I remember listening to this as a child and not knowing what the song was really about, thought it was about an actual statue that a little girl saw everyday in a park or something and thought that she would be able to get away from bullying. I took most of this from the video. The packed lunch, the window, the tree. Yeah. But, I tried to make it as 'mine' as possible.<br>I listened to the song on continuous loop while typing this up. I can't watch the video without crying. Domestic violence, especially on a child, is unforgivable. If you hear something or see it happening, don't just don't do something. You could save a life someday even if it's just dialing the police. I'm lucky to have a loving home, as I hope you all are too.

I recommend listening to the song while reading this to get the whole affect. Please and thank you. And I am also leaving this as 'incomplete' because I may write a second part explaining Alfred and Arthur's ordeal.

This is dedicated to anyone and everyone who has had to put up with any kind of abuse.

* * *

><p>Matthew Williams, an eight year old third grader. He walked down the quiet sidewalk of his American suburban home to his school. The trees rustled in the wind and the birds sang a sweet song. His large, red sweater seemed out of place in the warm spring air, but he wore it nonetheless. His blonde hair was dirty and unkempt. A small bruise could be seen peaking from under the sweater's collar.<p>

Matthew Williams held a small lunch box be had packed with a lunch he made himself and his old, worn out stuffed polar bear. His backpack was worn as well, holes in multiple places. As he got closer to the school and more children came to view he could see a little girl around his age hugging her mother good bye. Matthew looked away.

* * *

><p>In class, Matthew was ignored by the other children. He wasn't invisible. In fact, the children could see him quite clearly. They didn't like how he looked. He always wore the same sweater and shirt and jeans everyday to school. Sometimes he smelled gross so they left him alone to suffer quietly.<p>

There was a spelling test today and Matthew tried his hardest to get all the words correct, but try as he might he was tired. His mother had kept him up last night and he wanted to sleep for a bit. The teacher, Mrs. Herdervey, walked the aisles and noticed little Matthew nodding off.

She nudged his arm and couldn't help but notice him flinch. He was an odd child. He didn't like when others touched him. She saw a few bruises every now and again but she also saw them on the other children. They were third graders after all. He was a nice, polite child who never raised his voice or talked back. He was always the sweetest child when talking to a teacher. What could he be doing anyway?

* * *

><p>At recess that day, Matthew sat on a bench clutching at his toy, Kumajirou. They talked in silence. Matthew never had to say anything aloud for Kumajirou to understand him. The beady, black eyes of the stuffed toy knew everything that Matthew endured at home. He understood why sometimes, while he was coloring in his room as he hid, that he asked God why He couldn't just let him go up to live with Him.<p>

The wind blew a few strands of hair into Matthew's eyes and he swept them aside. Out of the corner of his eye he could see another boy coming up to him.

"Hi." The boy said with a smile.

"H-Hello," Matthew croaked; his voice hoarse from disuse. He clutched Kumajirou closer. He was probably going to make fun of him like the others.

"Why're you sitting here all alone?" The boy sat down next to Matthew. "You looked kinda sad so I came to play with you. Is that okay?"

The boy was blonde like Matthew, except for that his hair was clean and shorter, a cowlick at the top of his head instead of in front of his face like Matthew's. He had shiny blue eyes instead of dull violet ones. His skin even glowed unlike Matthew's. He was like an angel.

"Y-Yes."

"I'm Alfred. But you can call me Al. What's your name?"

"M-Matthew. Matthew Williams."

Alfred thought a moment. "You sound funny. Where are you from?"

"…I-I'm from Canada." Matthew felt dejected. Maybe Alfred wouldn't like him anymore because of the way he talked…

"That's so cool! And I'm gonna call you Mattie, alright Mattie?" Alfred smiled and stood up. "Do you wanna play with me?"

* * *

><p>The two boys played on the playground, in their own little corner, in their own little world. Alfred never mentioned Matthew's dirty hair or asked if he was hot under his sweater. Matthew felt himself open up to the boy. He stopped stuttering and enjoyed playing with him. He hadn't played with another kid for as long as he could remember.<p>

When the teachers began calling for their students, Matthew was sad to find that Alfred didn't have the same class. In fact, he didn't see him in any of the lines. His class must have gone in before his own.

* * *

><p>Matthew stepped out of the school with a small frown. He had to go home now.<p>

His sad thoughts were interrupted though when Alfred bounded up to him. "Hey Mattie!"

Matthew felt his face lit up with a smile at the other blonde. "Hi, Al. Are you walking home too?" Alfred nodded.

"I live on Westmire Street."

"So do I," Matthew said gladly. Maybe they could play together some more at Alfred's house.

"That's cool. Could I come over? My dad doesn't get home until late." Alfred still had that wide smile but Matthew felt his own break.

"N-No. M-Mom doesn't like it when people come over." That wasn't true. In fact, Matthew had no idea what his mother would say or do if he brought someone home. He never tried and he didn't want to find out.

"That sucks. Well, we could go to my house and play there. I have a key." Alfred then raced down the sidewalk to a dark blue, two-story house. Matthew tried to make himself invisible when he noticed Alfred lived just right next door to him. Maybe if he pretended to be someone else, his mother could stay in her room and forget she had a son for a few hours.

* * *

><p>Inside, Matthew noticed Alfred's house was sort of dusty. The lights didn't work and it was cold in all of the rooms. The furniture had crème sheets over them and there were no appliances in the kitchen or bathroom.<p>

"It's not much, but I call it home." Alfred smiled, taking Matthew deeper into the house. They played hide-n-seek until an older blonde man came home. He didn't look like Alfred at all, but the boy still called him father.

"I-I have to go," Matthew said when he noticed the sun was setting. His stomach was churning and he had a lump in his throat.

"Alright. And don't forget to open your window so we can talk." The boys had noticed that their rooms were adjacent so Alfred suggested talking through them at night.

"I-I won't."

The man, who introduced himself as Arthur Kirkland, smiled at Matthew with a glint in his eyes. It was like he was reading the boys soul. Matthew felt ashamed.

* * *

><p>The house was quite when he opened the front door. He didn't announce his arrival. He had done that once and learned that it only brought more pain quicker.<p>

Matthew snuck to the kitchen like a shadow and made himself a snack before going up to his bedroom on the second floor.

True to his word, Alfred was already waiting for him, his head sticking out and his smile as wide as ever. Matthew shut his door and turned the lights on.

His room was small, the walls painted white, and there were crayons and paper everywhere. He put his backpack under his bed in its hiding place and sat Kumajirou and his snack on the window sill after opening it.

"Hey, Mattie!" Alfred said. Matthew smiled.

"H-Hi, Al." He noticed that his palms were sweating, but he tried his hardest to ignore it as he ate the sandwich he had made.

"Long time no see, huh?" Alfred laughed at his own joke. "So, you room looks nice - from what I can see."

Matthew smiled. "T-Thanks. I liked yours too." Alfred's room was pitch black. It was dusty and looked like no one had lived in it for years. There was an equally dusty bed and no dresser for clothes.

"Yeah, but I bet yours is more fun to play in. Too bad your mom doesn't like people over. That's a bummer." Matthew stifled a small, nervous giggle.

"Y-yeah, a bummer."

Then, without warning, his bedroom door slammed open and Matthew was dragged from the window. Alfred titled his head when he noticed that the woman who had come into Matthew's room was screaming at him.

Matthew glanced sideways at Alfred just before his mother hit his face. Alfred was shocked, stunned. He stared at Matthew from his room, his voice lost. He watched as Matthew's face turned red with a hand-shaped print on his cheek. There were tears welling in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

The screaming continued. Alfred watched until Matthew's mother pulled him to where he couldn't see anything but their shadows. He watched as a grey hand swung down again and again onto the grey figure that was Matthew's shadow.

"A-Al!" He heard. A tear rolled down Alfred's face. He hadn't noticed Arthur come into his room and stand behind him, but when he did, the boy looked up, more tears streaming down, at his father.

The screams continued, shouting out obscenities and insults at the crying boy. The boy who was calling out for Alfred's help.

"I-I'm sorry for lying to you, Al! Please help!"

Then, Alfred watched as one last hand fell onto the crumpled shadow of Matthew and it was silent.

* * *

><p>Three police officers stormed into the small home at nearly two in the morning. A few neighbors had called, complaining about noise and maybe some sort of domestic argument going on in the house.<p>

When they entered the house, they found a woman sitting in the living room. She was sitting calmly, watching television, like she hadn't heard the police pounding on the door just seconds before they barged in.

"Ms. Williams," the largest officer, Officer Beilschmidt, said while the others began investigating the house. The woman looked at him with a glazed look. The house smelt like smoke. She was probably high. "We got some complaints from your neighbors about some yelling."

"It was nothing," she slurred. "I took care of it."

"Ludwig! Come here!" Ludwig handed the woman over to Officer Zwingli and made his way up to where he heard his partner calling.

"What is it, Ivan?" Ludwig saw the large Russian kneeling on the ground. His soft, childish smile was gone, replaced with a sad frown.

"I've found why the yelling was about." His voice trailed off. Ludwig made his way into the room of a child, fearing the worst.

He bit his lip at what he saw. There was a small blonde child, bruised face and blood pooling under him from a head wound.

"He has no pulse," the normally happy Russian said. "His mother probably beat him to death while she was on a high."

The German inspected the body while Ivan called in the paramedics. There were bruise marks on the boy's arms from when he undoubtedly tried to protect himself. His eyes were closed and still puffy from when he had been crying out only hours before. He was small and looked too thin to be any healthy.

Next to him there was a stuffed bear stained with his blood. The boy's left arm was reaching for it, the bear just out of reach. He had probably been trying to get it for a few last minutes of comfort before he died.

Ludwig sighed heavily. He knew all too well what kind of trouble children of domestic violence went through. He had saved his younger brother, Gilbert, from their own mother when he had been in high school. Gilbert was probably no older than this boy was now when Ludwig had taken him and left the hell-hole they dared call home.

Two paramedics came into the room and carefully removed the boy.

* * *

><p>At the funeral, Matthew's third, second, first, and Kindergarten teacher attended. His Uncle Francis cried silently. His cousins Zeke and Eric were also there. Their baby sister, Wy was too young to understand what everyone was crying about, but she cried too. And behind them all, Alfred stood with Arthur.<p>

Matthew's mother was not there. She was being held in jail until her court date.

The small plaque on the ground read, "Matthew Williams – 1994 ~ 2002." A small angel sat above the engraving, looking up at the blue sky. Its hands were folded in a mock-prayer. There was a bouquet of lilies and roses on top of the mound of dirt – Matthew's favourite flowers.

* * *

><p>The small crowd left after the service. The teachers all talking with solemn voices about their lost student. They talked about how they should have done something. They had seen the signs, but had brushed them off.<p>

Francis kept blaming himself. "My dreadful sister never should have been graced with a child." He should have known when she hadn't allowed anyone to see Matthew that something was wrong.

Zeke was holding Wy in her arms as the child slept. Eric kept looking back, expecting his favourite cousin to come from behind the tree standing next to the mound of dirt, to come play with him agaian. Zeke had to pull him away.

* * *

><p>The last to leave were Alfred and Arthur. Alfred sat at the mound of dirt. His blue eyes were now dull like Matthew's had been just the other day.<p>

Alfred stood up after a few hours of silence. Arthur took his hand and they began walking up the hill in the cemetery. Alfred stopped walking for a moment though. He looked back at Matthew's grave.

The trees rustled their leaves in the wind and from behind the large oak tree next to his grave, Matthew walked out. He looked at his grave, at his plaque, and at his flowers. Then he looked at Alfred and Arthur.

The blue-eyed boy ran back down the hill and grabbed Matthew's hand and smiled softly. Matthew sniffed but smiled back.

"Come on," Alfred said as he brought Matthew back to Arthur.

The three walked up the rest of the hill into the golden light at the top. There, a small girl with brown pigtails was waiting for them. Another girl, with short blonde hair, was standing with her; a shy smile on her face.

"You'll like living with us. Arthur takes good care of us," Alfred explained to Matthew. "He was my father before we died."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**Thank you everone who reviewed. I wrote the last chapter at about two in the morning so I wasn't sure if it made any sense.

Remember, abuse isn't just physical.

I hope you enjoy Alfred and Arthur's case.

* * *

><p>Arthur Kirkland was from a small town in England. He moved from Essex in the eighties and found love with a pretty, southern belle from Tennessee.<p>

The two love birds moved to a quiet suburban area in a small town in Maine. The house was two stories and a beautiful dark blue. Inside, hard, dark wood was laminated on the ground and checkerboard black and white tiles in the kitchen.

"It's beautiful," Terri said in her thick southern drawl. Arthur nodded and held up their new baby, Alfred, so he could see his new home.

* * *

><p>Alfred F. Jones, nine years old and in fourth grade. He was an all-American boy. He loved barbeque, the Fourth of July, and his father. He had a Hollywood smile and wheat-coloured hair with sky-blue eyes that shone.<p>

But like most all-Americans, Alfred hid a dark secret from his life outside of his home.

The boy walked to school like he always did on a weekday morning. He hummed the theme song for his favourite superhero, Captain America, as he swung the character's lunchbox. He was wearing a bomber jacket his father had given to him. It used to belong to his mother's father who had been in WWII when Captain America was running around, raising support levels of his fellow Americans.

The end of the song came and Alfred hopped up the steps to the school. He pushed his too-big glasses up his nose and happily went through the doors.

His fourth grade teacher was none other than his own father, Arthur Kirkland. Alfred loved going to school and being taught by his father. It meant the world to him. Every day he would leave home, walk down the manicured sidewalk and then greet his father in the classroom.

"We have a history test today, children," Arthur called out as he pulled out a stack of papers from his desk. He heard a collected groan, the loudest coming from his son. The man chuckled and handed the test out.

* * *

><p>Terri Kirkland was a full-time housewife and mother. Arthur made enough money for the both of them and Alfred so she never felt the need to get a job. She stayed home each day and cleaned and made sure her home was in perfect order. God knew she hated imperfection.<p>

* * *

><p>The white house next door was empty, still with its "For Sale" sign up in the front lawn. After school, Alfred liked to sneak in and explore. He found a room adjacent to his own and would often play with in it until the sun began to set and his father called from his bedroom window into the house across for Alfred to come home, please.<p>

Alfred didn't like going home.

It looked nice and pretty on the outside with lots of flowers that his mother tended to, but inside there was lots of yelling and screaming.

Almost every night of the week Alfred worried the neighbors would hear his mother's yelling and start asking questions. She yelled at him for tracking mud in the house after she had swept, she screamed at him when he didn't eat all of his vegetable, and she yelled more when he didn't go to bed on time.

Arthur didn't yell though. Alfred had never heard his father raise his voice to anyone, really. Well, except for that one French guy down the street.

At night, when both his parents thought he was asleep with his Captain America figurine, Alfred would peak out of his bedroom door and see down the stairs to where his mother sometimes hit his dad.

Arthur always said that hitting a lady was a crime and to never ever do it. But Alfred couldn't understand why it was okay for his mom to hit his dad. It didn't make any sense.

* * *

><p>At school, Alfred was fairly popular with his friends. They all adored him. But Alfred almost never paid attention to them. He was more focused on the first friend he ever made.<p>

Im Yong-Soo was from South Korea. Actually, he was born in the States, but he liked to think he was from Korea. He was loud and funny and liked to play with Alfred.

Alfred liked to play with him too. The two boys were almost inseparable at school. Arthur noticed and would smile happily; knowing Alfred wouldn't let his mother's attitude distract him from making friends. Yong-Soo was a great contrast to home.

The two would play at recess every day in their own little world, ignorant to the others on the playground.

It almost hurt Arthur to know what Alfred had to go home to everyday.

* * *

><p>One day, while Alfred was waiting for his father to get off of work, the rambunctious American was roaming the halls of the small school and found Yong-Soo waiting outside for his older brother to pick him up.<p>

"What 'cha doing, Yong-Soo?" Alfred asked as he sat down next to the Korean.

"I'm waiting for Yao to get off at the restaurant." Yong-Soo sighed dramatically and flailed his arms. "He always takes forever, but he's still awesome."

Alfred laughed. "Then do you wanna play in my dad's classroom until he gets here? It's super boring in there when I don't have anyone to play with."

"Yeah. Hey, did you know playing was invented in Korea?" Alfred laughed.

"Really?"

* * *

><p>The two boys walked down the hall, past the administration offices, past the cafeteria, and past the gymnasium all the way to the fourth grade hallway.<p>

Just before they turned down it, though, Yong-Soo stopped Alfred.

The normally open and very forward Korean was fidgeting and before Alfred knew it, Yong-Soo had kissed him. They both were blushing afterwards.

"S-S-Sorry. Y-You probably didn't like that," Yong-Soo stuttered. He wrung his hands nervously.

Alfred was too stunned to respond. His lips were tingling where Yong-Soo's had just been. He raised a hand to touch them. "N-No," he began but was cut off by his mother's shriek.

"What on Earth is going on?" Terri shouted as she swift-walked towards her son. She had decided to come down to the school to walk with her husband and son home after he got off of work and when she got there, she saw Yong-Soo peck Alfred on the lips. "What on Earth are you doing?" She spit at Im Yong-Soo. She yanked Alfred away from his friend.

Arthur, who had heard his wife's shriek, came jogging up from down the hall. "W-What happened?" He asked. Alfred and Yong-Soo were both as pale as a ghost.

"I just saw this… little Slant Eye taking advantage of our son!"

Arthur looked at Yong-Soo who was more or less shaking now. His chocolate eyes were wide and fearful. He looked at Alfred who was in a similar state. The boys both looked at Arthur.

"I-I don't think that was the case, honey." Arthur tried to coax Terri's death grip on Alfred off.

"What do you mean by that? That little rat was trying to defile Alfred!" She tried to swing at Yong-Soo but Arthur caught her arm.

"You know you can't hit a child and you know what you think you saw was wrong," Arthur said calmly. Alfred moved away from his mother to stand next to Yong-Soo.

"M-Mama?" His voice cracked. "Y-Yong-Soo just kissed me, that's all."

"Just kissed you," Terri spat again. "That's disgusting. That Slant Eye can take his disgusting self somewhere else, but he's not going to see Alfred again."

Alfred paled again. He didn't want to have to stop playing with Yong-Soo. "B-But Mama, I didn't mind it."

* * *

><p>Yao got to the school a few minutes after Terri was escorted to the office by Arthur so she could calm down. Alfred and Yong-Soo had gone back to where the Korean had originally been waiting for his brother and they both sat in silence until Yong-Soo turned to say good bye to Alfred. He was met with another kiss.<p>

"I kinda like you too, Yong-Soo," Alfred said with a rose red blush.

* * *

><p>At home that night, Terri was furiously stabbing at her plate while Alfred sat next to her, shaking like a leaf in his seat. Arthur watched with a frown.<p>

"Why does it matter, Terri? It's just a playground crush." Arthur wished he hadn't said anything after that.

Terri blew up. "It is a big deal! We aren't going to let some homosexual kid try and mess up Alfred!" Her hands were shaking and she dropped her silverware. "I'm trying to raise a good Christian family and I'm not going to have a sinner son!" Alfred ducked his head.

Arthur kept his tone even and quiet, unlike his wife's. "I am just saying that it won't develop into anything. Children don't know the difference between this kind of thing. They see someone they admire and they think its love."

"Y-yeah, Mama." Alfred then tried to get on his mother's good side by quickly eating the rest of his vegetables.

Terri stood up, deathly silent. Arthur was afraid Alfred could hear his heart pounding in his chest. He was supposed to be strong for his son and yet he was afraid of his wife.

* * *

><p>That night, Alfred watched from the slit in the door as his mother yelled and hit his father more. He flinched every time Terri hit Arthur.<p>

"It's disgusting and it's not going to happen under my roof!" She yelled as she hit Arthur in the chest. Her curled fists were tiny, but she was still forceful.

Arthur took all of it. He was brought up as a gentleman and gentlemen don't hit women. But he wasn't above defending his opinion.

"It's not disgusting, Terri, and it's not happening under your roof." Arthur sighed as she tried to hit him again. "I'm just saying that Alfred will probably just forget about this in the morning."

* * *

><p>Alfred didn't forget it in the morning. He woke up from a dream of Yong-Soo and him swinging at recess, holding hands. Just before he woke up, Yong-Soo had kissed him again.<p>

* * *

><p>At school, Yong-Soo looked for Alfred before the first bell rang. He saw his friend sitting along one of the walls. "Hey!"<p>

Alfred didn't look up. When he got closer, Yong-Soo noticed that Alfred sported a large, purple bruise on his right cheek. "H-Hey."

Yong-Soo dropped to his knees. "Y-Your mom didn't do that, did she?" Alfred shrugged. "Tell me. Please."

"M-Mom was yelling again last night. She was hitting Dad a lot and this morning she hit me too." Alfred's shoulders sagged and he buried his face into his knees. His mother had never hit him. If she ever seemed like she was going to, Arthur always intervened and took the brunt of it.

Yong-Soo hugged his friend. "I-It's… okay, Al."

* * *

><p>At recess that day, Yong-Soo and Alfred snuck behind one of the large oak trees and kissed again.<p>

"I-I really don't mind it, Yong-Soo," Alfred said as he felt his lips tingle again. He didn't mind it if Yong-Soo kissed him at all, in fact, he loved it.

"Y-Yeah. Me neither."

The two boys stood up, hand in hand, and made their way to the swings, just like in Alfred's dream.

When the bell rang, they kissed good bye until they would meet again after school.

* * *

><p>In the classroom, Alfred was hounded with questions.<p>

"Did you really kiss him?"

"Was it weird?"

"Isn't that gross?"

Alfred ignored them all in favour of listening to his father go on about the Mayflower and the first Pilgrims of the New World.

He tried to ignore the new throb in his cheek from his bruise but it became too distracting so his mind wandered off to think about Yong-Soo and if they would kiss good bye again after school.

* * *

><p>They did kiss again. And Yao watched them.<p>

He didn't mind. He even told them, before opening the car door for Yong-Soo, that it was okay for them to kiss and to not listen to what anyone else said.

"I-I think I like you, Yong-Soo." Alfred kissed Yong-Soo one last time before hugging him and saying good bye and waved them off as Yao drove away.

* * *

><p>Arthur and Alfred walked home from school ten minutes later. The bruise on Alfred's cheek was turning a nasty yellow.<p>

"When we get home, I want you to go up to your room. I'll bring your dinner up when it's ready, alright?"

"Why?"

"I'm going to talk with your mother. I'm going to try and convince her to go see a therapist for her anger." Arthur pat Alfred's head. "Just promise me you'll stay in your room so you don't get hit again."

"I promise." Alfred smiled then said, "Do you know Captain America's theme song?" The boy began singing the song off-key. Arthur laughed.

* * *

><p>True to his word, Alfred quickly went up to his room and started on his homework, keeping an ear out for his parents.<p>

His mother quickly began yelling once Arthur opted therapy.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard come out of that mouth of yours!" Terri's southern accent was thicker than usual. She was trying to shove Arthur down, to get a better height advantage over him.

"It is not stupid, Terri, and you know it. I am just suggesting that you see a lady or gentleman not in the family to vent your frustration nonviolently." Arthur snuck a glance at Alfred's closed door.

Terri let out a frustrated noise. "I'm not frustrated! I'm disgusted that our son would go against the word of the Lord! Where did my parenting go wrong?"

* * *

><p>His mother's yelling got louder as the minutes passed. Alfred never heard his father's voice.<p>

When he was just finishing the last math problem of his homework, his door opened. Alfred looked up, expecting his father to be bringing dinner like he said, but instead it was his mother.

She had stopped screaming as she had crept up the stairs. She had on a smile that made Alfred uncomfortable.

"Y-Yes, Mama?" Alfred stood up.

"Nothing, dear. I'm just checking up on you. Your father wants you down so we can eat dinner together." She smiled again and left back down the stairs. Alfred followed her quietly.

He looked down the stairs and saw Arthur sitting at the dinner table, looking down at the newspaper.

"Dad!" Alfred ran down the rest of the steps up to his father. "Is everything okay now?"

Arthur nodded without looking up from the paper.

* * *

><p>When Alfred was put to bed was when the yelling started again.<p>

"I've had it with you, Arthur!" Terri screamed. Arthur wondered what ever happened to that southern belle charm he had fallen in love with went. "I've had it with you!"

Arthur sighed and took his wife's yelling. He only started worrying when she pulled out a steak knife from one of the drawers in the kitchen.

"What's that for, honey?" Arthur stood up, ready to take the knife from the woman if need be.

"I've had it with you and Alfred!" She shouted again.

Up the stairs, Alfred was listening like always from his dark bedroom. He had a slight frown. Why would his mother have had it with him? What did he do?

Terri lunged at Arthur, but the man stepped to the side before she could stab him. "Terri!" He shouted.

Alfred heard his father shout at his mother. It was unsettling. There had been fear in his voice. Alfred closed the door and locked it. He then grabbed his Captain America figurine off his bed and opened his closet door. There was enough room for him to squeeze into the back and hide.

Arthur made a grab for the knife but only ended up cutting himself on its blade. Terri growled – so unlike herself.

"Terri, stop this!" Arthur shouted again. He was beginning to worry not for his safety, but for Alfred's. What if Terri got tired of him and went after Alfred? "Just give me the knife and we can talk."

The woman seemed to have read his mind because just after he said that, Terri made a dash for the stairs.

"Terri! Stop! Leave Alfred out of this!" Arthur bounded after her, grabbing for the hem of her shirt to try and stop her.

"I've had it with you, Arthur!" She sounded like a broken record. "You and that ungrateful twit!" Terri slashed behind her and cut Arthur's cheek.

The Briton stumbled back, holding his cut, but he kept running after his wife.

Alfred tried to press himself further back into his closet but the wall was preventing him. Never had his parents taken their arguments (well, his mother's arguments) upstairs. Plus she kept shouting for Alfred to come out, which made him even more uncomfortable. Arthur yelling for her to stop wasn't helping either.

He shut his eyes and thought of Yong-Soo. About how they had kissed good bye earlier that day. He wished he had been able to go home with him. Then he wouldn't be in the back of his closet, cowering.

There was a loud pop as something hit Alfred's bedroom door. Terri was banging on the door, trying to get past its lock.

"Stop this, Terri! Alfred's terrified!" Arthur shouted again, still grabbing for the knife. Terri slashed at him again; cutting his hands and face more.

The door cracked when Terri hit it again. She hit it harder, breaking the thin door after a few more seconds.

The bedroom was silent and dark. Arthur paled.

"Terri! Stop this!" He lunged at her and they both toppled over. The Briton pinned her arms and took the knife.

Terri struggled under Arthur. "Get off of me, you bastard!" Arthur held her arms.

Alfred squeaked and shut his eyes tighter. "D-Dad?"

"Get out of here, Alfred. Go next door, go!" Arthur's hold on Terri was slipping. "Hurry up!"

Alfred crawled out of the closet, shaking uncontrollably. He slipped past his parents, but as soon as he was outside of his room, Terri got hold of the knife again and stabbed Arthur in the chest.

Alfred heard the sickening plunge as the blade tore through his father's chest and stopped in his tracks.

Terri twisted the knife; glad she was able to cause more pain as Arthur coughed blood on to her. The man above her faltered and fell, gasping for breath. He glanced to Alfred outside the door.

"G-Go!" He managed before a large bubble of blood exploded from his mouth. Terri stood up.

She lunged at Alfred and grabbed his ankle, slashing at the backs of his legs. She ignored the cries that came from him and continued to slash and stab at him until he was quiet.

Alfred looked up at his mother, shaking and struggling for breath. "M-Ma…Ma?" Terri knelt down, brushing Alfred's bangs out of his eyes. She smiled sweetly at him, then reached further down and slit his throat.

Alfred didn't make a sound again.

* * *

><p>The next day at school, Yong-Soo looked for Alfred. When he didn't find his friend outside, he went in to look in his father's classroom. Mr. Kirkland wasn't there either.<p>

On his way to the office, Yong-Soo heard two older guys taking.

"The police found them this morning. I heard his wife did it." One boy said. The other looked shocked.

"Mr. Kirkland? But, his wife was always so nice when she came to my dad's store. How…?"

Yong-Soo felt his stomach drop. That didn't sound right. What happened? He approached the boys. "W-What happened to Mr. Kirkland?"

The boys looked down at him. "Didn't you hear? His wife went ape-shit and killed him and Alfred last night." Yong-Soo's eyes were wide.

He ran to the office, intent on finding an administrator to tell him that Mr. Kirkland and Alfred were just sick today. When he got to the glass lined offices, though, there was a police officer talking with one some of the teachers.

Yong-Soo slipped in and listened to the officer. He was a large man with blonde hair.

"Mrs. Kirkland called up last night. We found them in the child's room." The music teacher blanched and the nurse took her to sit down. "She had the knife with her when she answered the door. I'm very sorry."

The man turned to leave but was stopped by Yong-Soo. "W-What happened? Why's Alfred not here?"

Mrs. Herdervey, the new third grade teacher, shook her head at the officer and knelt down to Yong-Soo's height. "A-Alfred's not here because he's in heaven now, sweetie." Her soft, brown eyes were glistening with tears.

Yong-Soo's own began filling up. "B-But, we were gonna… play on the playground again. He-He even said he liked me!" Yong-Soo buried his face into the young woman's shoulder and cried. "It's not fair!"

"Shh, shh, honey. It's okay."

"No it's not. He was going to come over so I could tell him I like him!" Mrs. Herdervey blushed at that, but then her face fell again. Oh.

* * *

><p>Im Yong-Soo cried on his knees at the funeral. Yao knelt beside him, rubbing at his shoulders and back while the rest of his family stood around.<p>

Arthur's older brothers and sister stood opposite of the Asian family. Instead of their usual jokes, they stood intently, staring down at their baby brother's grave, next to his only son's.

The two plaques read, "Arthur Kirkland – 1961 ~1991" and "Alfred F. Jones – 1982~1991."

When the families were ready to leave, they walked in silence. Yong-Soo cried still, telling Yao that wanted to come back tomorrow.

Alfred and Arthur watched them leave from next to a tree. Their bodies were transparent and once the last car was gone, they walked up the hill into the golden light waiting for them.

* * *

><p>Their house was locked up after a clean-up of the crime scene was finished. The house wasn't put up for sell so it sat on its lot, gathering dust.<p>

Eleven years later, the house next door was bought by a woman and her eight year old son.


End file.
